Thursday, February 26, 2015

May I Never Lose the Awe

For those of us along the Gulf, whose climate is driven more by tropical breezes than by arctic blasts, snow is a glorious and mysterious sight. We become overwhelmed by flurries we can see dancing in our backyards.  We anticipate the white blanket blurring the harsh deadness of winter grass and barren trees. We envision sledding and slushing and watching the Iditarod pass by in front of our houses. We shut down schools and businesses. We crash into parked cars because we don’t know how to drive on snow.  And, yet, we are amazed.

First Snowfall - Tampier

People who actually live where it snows much of the winter laugh at our excitement. To them, snow is just a seasonal obligation. They shovel it out of the way and keep on going. They put on chains—kept in readiness in their trunk—and drive wherever the snowplows have cleared the path. They deal with it, not as a blessed sight, but as an ordinary, normal occurrence.
Normal occurrences often fall into the category of non-spectacular, regular, where the awe gets quickly replaced with life. What we see as incredible and stop our lives to relish, they see as an obstacle to be pushed aside in order to keep life going.

Occasional sights are far more inspiring to those who rarely get such glimpses than they are to those who deal with them regularly. Whether it’s snow, mountains, oceans, skyscrapers, airplanes, horses, music, the difficulty lies in keeping the experience from becoming ordinary.
One of the hazards of knowing God for a long time is losing the impact of who He is. Listen to new believers whose excitement in discovering God’s love is overwhelming. They burst with delight from each moment they spend with Him. Their prayers are fresh and personal, honest and hopeful. Their worship is free and unencumbered. The Bible is alive and inspiring. Us older believers are much more reserved. We carry out the duties of our service with the dull obligation of shoveling snow. We miss the beauty by the routine. This is the hundredth time we’ve been at this very same place, doing the very same task. All we want to do is get done.

I want to be excited to see snow. I want to dance with the flurries. I want to anticipate the beauty to come. And yes, I even want to build a snowman! But I also want to live with such freshness with my God that He still thrills me by just being there.

Lord, I’ve known you all my life. I do not want that fact to condition me to ever lose sight of how great You are!

1 comment:

  1. Thanks, Nancy, for the reminder. How great thou art.